I have no hesitancy in demanding that people regard my time and effort, because I'm convinced after years as an executive and mentor that it creates respect. Some will drop out. But we must invest our time, not spend it. People respect us when we can get to the problem quickly. If through reading as well as living we have developed the intuition, knowledge, and experience to be helpful to others; and if we have the courage to go right at the issue and not be afraid of conflict, people will see we mean business with our time. Even when I must say, "I think I understand the issue, but I can't help you; that's not the kind of problem I can treat," the person may not like me very much, but he or she will respect me.
I also do not give advice; I give observations and list options. I don't feel I should take responsibility for what other people do. They ought to make the decision. I will say, "Here's the problem, and here are two or three options I see for you. Now, which are you going to choose? Or do you see other options?" The next time I see that person, I won't say, "Hey, how you doing?" I'll say, "How are you getting along on that particular issue? Which option did you choose? How is it working out?" Once people find out you're going to hold them accountable, the frivolous counseling requests dry up.
I believe in practicing this approach myself, by the way. When I went to the doctor with high blood pressure, he said, "Why don't you try losing a little weight?" In five weeks, I lost twenty-six pounds, which greatly surprised my doctor. But I told him, "Dick, you're a world-class physician. I haven't got a right to ask you to keep me alive unless I'm willing to match your dedication." I wanted him to know this was a give-give situation.
A friend sent an acquaintance to me, the executive vice-president of a large company. He had gotten mad and quit. At age fifty, he was without another job. I saw he had an ego problem and wasn't really trying to find a job. Overrating his reputation, he was sitting around waiting for somebody to call him. I suggested this to him. Then I called my friend and said, "Your friend may be a little sore, because I put it to him straight."
"That's exactly what you should have said, because it's true," he replied. "But I didn't want to say it because he might not like me." So that was why he sent him to me!
I saw the man later. He had found another job, and even though he didn't particularly enjoy what I did, there was no question that he respected my honesty.
Sympathy and comfort are two very different things. I don't mind spending time comforting someone, but I won't spend time sympathizing. Sympathy is an addictive emotion; people want more and more and more. Comfort, on the other hand, brings a light to the darkness. Comfort produces progress; sympathy doesn't.
This tough approach may not be popular. But I've found it produces results and develops respect.
People take you seriously if you take yourself seriously. This is conveyed in small but important ways. For example, a pastor can say, "I hope I won't lose my salvation for this, but the other day I wasted a few minutes, and you folks know what a nut I am about not wasting time." They'll get the message. You can set definite times for meetings. Even if the calendar is open, you don't say, "Well, come any time Tuesday." Instead, you say, "I'll be glad to see you. How long do you think you'll need?" Or "How long will it take us to accomplish what you've got in mind?" This trains people to think in terms of schedule.
Transitioning from small talk to the issue is important. A successful salesman told me that he says, "If we're not going to talk business, then I have no business being here."
In the same way, you can telegraph your view of time by cutting the conversation off promptly at the end. "Is there anything else profitable that we should talk about, or are we finished?" This establishes the reason we're talking: to accomplish something.
